麻豆

鈥淪hipwrecked: Sky Cowboy turned Beach Bum鈥�

By Trevor S. Hixon

I vividly remember sitting in math class during my junior year of high school. At the age of 17, I had little care for the knowledge being presented on the whiteboard. In fact, I had little care about school at all. My fellow classmates were getting all geared up to take the college placement exams in the next few years, so they could go on to do wonderful things. For me, I had no interest in going to college. I would sit in class and tune out the teacher. In my brain, however, there was an entire dream land unfolding. I wanted to leave behind my simple suburb of Naperville, Illinois. In my imagination, I was travelling to the far reaches of the oceans and all the worlds unknown to me at the time. I envisioned the pirates they depict in movies, travelling long stretches of ocean in search of white sandy beaches and rum. Or the nomadic sailing tribes of ancient times. They would adventure far to the outer reaches of the currently known world, finding secluded island paradises along the way, where one could escape from the world for a while and relax on some faraway sliver of land in the middle of nowhere.

A few years later, I would find that my dreams of high adventure had come true. I became a Flight Engineer on the KC-130J military transport plane. Like the pirates and nomadic sailors of the past that I had envied for so long, I too was now travelling the world and going to places I had never heard of before. I saw beautiful sights and finally lived out my dreams of adventuring to lands unknown, far from any place I considered home. The only difference between myself and those travelers of the past was that instead of a wooden boat, I was in a giant metal bird. I was stationed in the mysterious and mountainous islands of Japan. With our plane, we would be tasked with flying all around the shrouded world of Southeast Asia, which consists of many small and tropical island nations. Those in my line of work were considered “Sky Cowboys”, venturing deep into new frontiers with only a mission and each other, regardless of how dangerous or challenging the journey may have been.

Whenever it came time for the military to bring some of its asset's home from this other world, they would often call on us to see to the safe delivery of their people and property. Coming from Asia, this meant that we would have the daunting task of crossing the Pacific Ocean. One cold Japanese morning in early spring, I had been notified that I would be on a crew that would be tasked with escorting a handful of jets from Japan to the beautiful Hawaiian Islands. The crew consisted of myself, my best friend Joseph, and another friend of ours named Dave. We also had two pilots with us, Aaron and John. We were a tight crew and knew that this trip would be just the adventure we were looking for in the middle of the chilly season. It was hard to not look forward to a free trip to Hawaii with your close friends. All we would have to do is ensure the safe transport of the jets and their maintenance equipment and personnel across thousands of miles of open water. Additionally, we would have to make one stop along the way. However, this stop was unique.

Wake Island falls into that category of places I was looking for as a 17-year-old. Once a strategic military outpost during the Second World War, the tiny atoll sits thousands of miles away from any major landmasses, making it one of the most isolated places on Earth. At one point in history, hundreds of boats and war planes would pass through the island. A constant rotation of people inhabited the island. A great battle was even fought on the white beaches under the shade of palm trees and tropical brush. Nowadays, the island is merely a stopover for military aircraft making the long and lonely journey back to the homeland from faraway places. At any given time, there are only a couple hundred people occupying the almost 3 square mile island. It has no residents, nor permanent government structure other than some supervisors from the Air Force. Due to its remoteness, it is an important ecological sanctuary, where life can flourish unbothered by the affairs of humankind. Had 17-year-old me known of this island, it would have set the perfect scene for my dream life of going off the grid on some remote island somewhere.

We left Japan as scheduled, and after hours of flying over a vast area of nothingness, we were able to see a tiny spec of land in the distance. We had finally made it to Wake Island. We circled the island overhead to take in the views and tell people we had arrived. The water was some of the bluest and cleanest I had ever seen. The plant life was all so green, and there were towering palm trees just like I had imagined a deserted island would have. We put the plane down safely and saw that the jets had already arrived and were getting fueled up for our next big push. In less than an hour, we would be on our way to sunny Hawaii. I took a few pictures of what I could, but there was not much to see from the massive runway. I thought about the war planes and vessels that had come decades before me. Many of those aboard would take this same view before the island would be pulled into the fierce fighting of the war for the Pacific. It was an eerie feeling.

Unwelcome news came in the form of a phone call from our jet friends across the way. One of their aircraft had sustained critical damage to its landing gear. It was a fix that was going to take a few hours. Since we could not leave the jets behind, their maintenance equipment and personnel we had brought with us would be put to work to resolve the issue and get us all on our way to Hawaii. For my crew, this meant we were going to be stuck on Wake Island overnight until a safe repair could be made. Initially, we were extremely excited. This would be a cool experience to add to our individual book of stories many of us accumulated in this line of work. We each grabbed a small overnight bag with some essentials and waited to get picked up and transported to the makeshift shelters on the north side of the island. There was one bus on the whole island. It was also the only vehicle fueled by regular gas; everything else was diesel or jet fuel. Gas came to Wake Island on a very spread-out schedule, and this tank would have to last for another four weeks. The shelters we had been put in were upgraded tents. Thankfully, they had air conditioning, as the island temperatures were soaring compared to what we were used to in Japan. The first day consisted of exploring the beaches and swimming in the clear waters. For food, there was a small cafeteria with some food service workers who would rotate out of the island every few months. The food was surprisingly good for being in the middle of nowhere. There was even a small bar, “Drifters,” which had been closed since some drunk sailors got into a fist fight a few weeks prior.

As I woke up on day three of being on Wake Island, I was feeling very anxious. It had been 72 hours since any of us contacted our friends and families, as there is not much phone signal in the middle of the ocean. What was supposed to be an overnight stay turned out to be an extended stay. The jets would need the help of a plane based out of Missouri. The plane in Missouri was delayed, and I was not sure what time it would be able to make it to the Island. My crew was getting bored quickly, as we had done all the swimming and exploring one could do on such a small island. Additionally, our sunscreen reserve had run out, and many of us had very severe sunburn. John got burned the worst and was the priority when it came to using any aloe we could find. The general store would not open for another couple of days, so we had to try to stay inside our tents as much as possible to avoid more sun exposure. The hardest part of the experience was the fact that none of us were planning to stay here longer than an hour or two. One must mentally prepare themselves for being stuck in such an environment. With no warning, we were caught off guard. This made it harder to accept that we were shipwrecked.

The sun rose on day five. We were certain we would be leaving that day, and the crew could not be more excited to go flying. I remember taking in one last view of the beach I had and blue waters, certain that I would not be here again. However, the news that we would not be leaving that day came soon after I packed my bag. We were frustrated, burned, and stressed about our lives outside of this island. We were supposed to be getting home to Japan on this day, but we still had the whole other half of our journey ahead of us. Not to mention, we now had no idea when we would leave the island. Any hope of departure kept getting crushed, which made the situation mentally harder each time. That night, to clear my mind, I decided I would go on a jog through the woods. The stars over Wake Island are brighter than a city. You can see clear out to the Milky Way, making it feel like you could reach out and touch space. My jog would take me to an isolated beach, far from any of the civilization on the island. As I sat, my frustration with the day quickly melted away.

Although I was in fact stuck on this island, it had hit me that I had finally fulfilled the dreams of my 17-year-old self. I had travelled further from home than I ever thought I would. As I sat there alone on the beach, I realized that I truly was alone. I had zero connection to the outside world. There was no way anyone could get into contact with me, other than the islands' sleeping inhabitants or some important military general with the authority to get whatever they wanted. I imagined that I had the entire Earth to myself. The problems and affairs of the outside world did not apply to me anymore. My contractual agreement with the military to be at their call at any moment's notice crumbled away. Sure, they could have tracked me down to the island, but most commanders would have fundamental questions about tracking down some random kid in the middle of the ocean unless it were a dire situation. I had zero obligations to anyone, or anything. The most interesting part about the experience was that I learned the difference between being alone and being lonely. To be lonely is to be in the presence of only yourself and find that you do not enjoy the company. To be alone is to be in the presence of only yourself and find peace, belonging, and contentment. It was the one and only time in my life up to that point that I truly was free. Ironic, given the fact that I was hopelessly shackled to this island.

I thought about the possibility that I was not the first man to have a seat on this very sand. It was possible there were great oceanic explorers who enjoyed a sunset or two in my spot. I also thought about the men who did not have an enjoyable experience on this beach. Maybe one of the young American Marines who were tasked with defending this island in the 40’s sat here for hours, looking for signs of Japanese war ships and dreading the inevitable moment when they would come. It could even be possible that a 23-year-old Marine, just like myself, had perished in the destruction of war at that very spot, unknown to the rest of the world, the same way as my presence here was of no importance to the functions of society. I thought to myself about my feelings from earlier in the day. The fact that I was frustrated with being stuck in this place suddenly became childish to me. I did not see the bigger picture of my presence here, and the utterly unique experience of the whole thing.

sWhen we finally left the next morning, I spent the following hours deeply reflecting on the experience. My shift of mindset during my evening beach lounging had turned a difficult and mentally taxing situation into one of the most profound and pivotal experiences in the dawn of my adulthood. I realized that most of my problems in life could always be worse. From that moment on, I would vow to myself to always try to see the bigger picture. When things were looking dark and helpless for me, I finally broke out on the other end of the metaphorical tunnel, to finally find true peace and existence. I thought about how nice of a life it would be to stay in that spot from the previous night forever. As we headed to Hawaii, I pictured the beach bums from cartoons and movies that are always depicted lounging around the beaches of Waikiki. I wondered if they would be jealous of my experience, for I had reached the highest tier of beach bum available at the time. I have since found comfort in knowing that a place like Wake Island exists. When life gets difficult, I put myself back on that beach and escape for a while. In those moments when the Sky Cowboy fa莽ade is not enough to get me through, I can always rely on the Beach Bum to help me put things into perspective and find a way forward.